Cold Spaghetti

If Rick Blaine had lived in New Orleans and not Casablanca, he would have had the opportunity to say this a lot.

Last night we enjoyed the Pfister Sisters at “The Big Top,” an art gallery/funky space/music hall/non-profit arts education center. They have “Friday Night Music Camp” from 5-7 with live music and art projects for kids. Our Music Together class met there last night. Will made a hip little glue-paper-cutout design on origami paper and everyone got their groove on to the swing-back songs. (Note: that little boy is not Will, but he was pretty darn cute staring up at the stage!)

Early this morning, we followed up the previous night with another art project: foam stickers. Will *loved* them.

Then we had our last summer session of Music Together. Paul joined us early on, which is great because it allows us each to take a kid. About halfway through the class (once Will got really crazy) Paul left to finish a project for Abeona House in the next room. After class we hung around to speak to Renee (the music instructor, an Abeona teacher and our friend), nurse Kate, change a poop, and catch-up with some Abeona events.

An example of how living is New Orleans is not all beads and cake: Paul’s project was to add rails to a changing table to “bring it up to code.” The table was a donation from another, very well established and respected preschool, the Newman School. It had been used there for many years. But because that School has been around for awhile (and has a history of serving the “society” generations), they are somewhat extempt from all the bullshit Abeona has had to deal with. To show the ridiculous level of the “code” — this particular changing table is actually deeper than the other with-bar changing tables in the House, yet the inspector refused to let us open without adding bars to the table or removing it. Rather than throw it out, Paul volunteered to put his woodworking skills to it, using scrap wood we had in the back. Hopefully, Paul will blog soon about some of the other hoops Abeona has had to jump through; he can tell the stories better than me. Seriously: New Orleans is an AWESOME place to live. If it weren’t a completely unique, amazing experience, no one would put up with the crap we have to deal with to live here.

I digress. After class, as is our tradition, we headed down a few blocks to Oak Street Cafe. Friendly staff who know us, eat up our kids, and serve great food. Plus the NOLA charm of live piano, blue plate specials, local coffee, and neighborhood style — we love it.

Paul is juggling in the park with the NOLA juggling club and the kids are napping as I write this. I’m not sure what this afternoon holds, but we’re off to a great start!

“I working.”

Will has a Jack-in-the-box at my parents’ house. It is a standard model with “Jack” dressed in a clown-inspired hat and suit, with cartoons of clowns juggling and unicycling on the sides. When he turns the handle and Jack pops out, Will always calls out, “Daddy!”

My Mother made the slip of calling out, “that sucks a big one!” when she overcooked bacon in the microwave this morning. Will, who was happily playing on the porch, conveniently decided to get involved in that moment: just as the words escaped Granna’s mouth, Will came charging into the kitchen shouting, “that sucks big one!” I looked down and shouted, “PEANUT BUTTER”, my distraction tactic to keep Will from repeating less-than-desireable phrases he hears from his mother’s family. Usually Will compiles. Today he just looked at me and repeated, “that sucks BIG one!” He put special emphasis on the “big,” as if to gently remind me that this phrase was now perminently saved in his personal lexicon. Thankfully, I kept my follow-up response (Damn!) to myself.

A few months ago, Will was Determined to Do Everything Himself. This included feeding himself, combing his hair, putting on clothes, and brushing his teeth. Lately there has been a huge regression of these behaviors: he asks to be fed, for someone else to brush his teeth, and doesn’t complain when one of us goes after his hair.

Kate is back to her super-pooper status. 5 big ones today; 4 of which overflowed up the back. This is an indication that we probably need to switch diapers to ones with a more cinching waist. We recently went from Pampers Swaddlers to the less expensive Pampers Baby Dry… I think we need to go either go back to Swaddlers or into Cruisers. Baby Dry does a great job on holding in leg leaks, but the waist doesn’t have the same give.

3: Poopie diapers from each kid
4: Outfits for Kate
3: Minutes Kate spent in the pool before the sun came out
5: Times I helped Will to swim to the bottom of the pool to pick up one of his toys before the whole thing freaked me out too much
2: Bandaids Will has had on his fingers
2: Times Will watched “National Geographic Really Wild Animals: Ocean” while pretending to be a shark
26: Sweet Pickles books that currently serve as Will’s primary reading choice

I struggle at each day’s end. Tucking Will in to bed, we sing songs. Usually I take requests, given by suggestion. “Would you like…. Hushabye Mountain? Goodnight My Someone? Loverly? I’d Do Anything? Surrey with the Fringe on Top?…”

Lately, Will smiles his sly smile and offers some faux titles based on his current obsessions. “How ‘bout Monster Song? Shark Song? Dinosaur Song? Tarantula Song?”

Some nights, I do my best to make up a song on his chosen theme. But even on those nights, we end with a song from our established repertoire.

Sometimes, he sings along. Sometimes Kate is there in bed with us, curled up in between. Sometimes, she sings, too.

No matter the song, or the singer(s), Will always follows up our lullabies with requests of cuddles. He asks specifically “to cuddle Mommy” and expects this cuddling to be all-night, or at least until-he-falls-asleep.

I always cuddle for a least a few minutes. Then the struggle begins. Kate gets fussy and needs burped or walked. Paul has asked me to help him with a project after Will is in bed. Laundry needs to be folded, dishes to be done, cats to be fed, trash to be taken out. Maybe I want some time to be Alone. These trivial tasks compel me to move. The stuff of life creeps into my head and pulls me away from the pillow I share with my son.

I know in a few years, years that will pass so quickly that I will forever be asking how they passed by so fast, I will long for these nights. I will miss my child that asks for his mother to cuddle him to bed. Miss his arms pulling me to his side, resting his head on my shoulder.

Will, waking up from his afternoon nap: “Where’s PapPap?”

“PapPap’s at work, honey.”

“Oh, need to wait here for him.”

“We do?”

“Yeah. I gotta go t’ golf course. Gotta hit balls with PapPap.”

Kate is 14 weeks old today.

Will is 1 week shy of being 2 years and 9 months old.

One of the biggest surprises of the past 14 weeks is that Will has not tried to destroy his sister. I felt certain that we would see some type of aggression or jealousy from him. The warnings of this behavior line each chapter on sibling preparation and the anxiety over it put me on high alert in Kate’s early weeks.

Now am I not so guarded. Sure, Will has his moments. For example, Will is very clear about when and where Kate can use “his” things. There are times when Kate sitting in Will’s bean bag or using his blanket are Not Okay. But there are other times when he willfully extends the use of these items to his “baby sister.”

A friend of mine was visiting and was shocked to see Will jump up to Kate’s side when she woke up from a nap on her playmate and cried out. He rushed to her, found her pacifier, and put it gently in her mouth, all the while cooing to her, “it’s okay sweet girl.”

“Are you sure 2-year olds can’t feel empathy?” She asked me. “Because THAT sure looks like empathy to me!”

What shocks me about Will’s practice of soothing Kate is that I’m so used to it that sometimes I actually wait for him to attend to her, forgetting that my 2-year old does not yet qualify as a suitable babysitter. His level of helpfulness betrays the truth of his age.

He delights at the attention Kate gives him. “She’s smiling at me!” he proudly declares. Kate dutifully responds by giving him rapt attention whenever he is nearby. The draw of Will trumps all other distractions, food included; she will stop everything to soak in her big brother.

After the doctor’s office we drove on to the Aquarium!
The Amazon exhibit was a key part of today’s trip. Will especially liked the anaconda. (I especially did NOT. I swear that snake eyes me up and down each time we visit.)
Although the big snake certainly has Will as a fan, nothing beats sharks. In the picture below, Will observes the baby nurse sharks. (The Big Sharks have a separate, big room viewing area. This is where I like to hang out and nurse Baby Kate while Paul chases Will around the rest of the exhibits. I think of it as a breastfeeding perk.)